


Powerless

by Settiai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settiai/pseuds/Settiai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders threw his left hand up, getting ready to throw a fireball in the rogue’s face...</p><p>... and then he felt the magebane hit his bloodstream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powerless

It said a lot about Anders's life that fighting slavers was just another Tuesday.

He grimaced, throwing another barrier around Hawke as a firm strike from a raider's sword collapsed his last one. The thin garments Hawke wore were little protection against a blade, which was part of the reason most mages had enough common sense not to throw themselves into the middle of the fray during a fight.

As much as Anders loved him, though, he had to admit that sometimes he doubted "common sense" was even in Hawke's vocabulary.

The others were holding up much better, at least. Fenris knew how to watch his own back, and Anders had learned the hard way only to throw a barrier up around him when there was no other choice. Varric, on the other hand, wasn't staying visible long enough for anyone to get close to him. He'd appear out of nowhere, let loose a few shots with Bianca, and then disappear again. And Isabela, well, it looked like she'd taken a page out of Varric's book. She was darting in and out of sight, knives flashing and smoke rising up around her as she slipped out of view.

Anders couldn't help but send up a quick word of thanks to anyone that might be listening. It was difficult enough keeping Hawke safe. If he'd had to keep as close an eye on the three of them as he was his fellow mage, Anders wasn't certain he'd have been able to pull it off.

There was a rumble of discontent at the back of his mind that he knew had to be coming from Justice. A silent complaint that Hawke was being reckless and putting the others at risk as well, what with his throwing himself into the fight. _Not now_ , Anders thought furiously. _Besides, he fights just like Warden Commander Amell. It probably runs in the family._

Anders almost expected there to be a rebuttal regarding the Commander's fighting style as well, but to his surprise and relief it seemed like Justice was going to let it go. For now, at least. He held no illusions that it wouldn't get brought up again in the future.

Still, the way Hawke was fighting, close enough to the slavers' weapons that Anders's barrier was the only thing keeping him from getting skewered, Anders couldn't afford to get distracted. Not even by Justice. His attention was focused almost entirely on Hawke, with the occasional glance at the others to make certain they were still holding their own.

In the end, that was what cost him. Anders was paying too much attention to Hawke, trying to keep a barrier around him because Maker knew Hawke couldn't keep one up around himself to save his life. He didn't notice the rogue slipping up on him until it was too late.

A flicker of movement that he caught out of the corner of his eye was the only warning that he had. Anders spun in that direction, a spell already on his lips, but he was too slow.

The knife slid deep into his right side, glancing off his ribs, and Anders hissed in pain while Justice yelled in his head. He threw his left hand up, getting ready to throw a fireball in the rogue's face...

... and then he felt the magebane hit his bloodstream.

"Fuck," Anders muttered, barely breathing out the word.

In front of him, the rogue grinned. He was still grinning when Anders brought the blade of his staff up and ran him through the chest with it.

Why did people always think the giant blade on the end of a mage's staff was ornamental?

The rogue's body fell bonelessly to the ground, and Anders hurriedly let his gaze drift around him. The others didn't seem any worse for the wear, at least. The raider Hawke had been fighting was on the ground, smoke rising from his body. A rogue was on the ground just behind him, a bolt through his eye that was clearly courtesy of Varric. Fenris and Isabela were taking out the last of them, blades almost dancing through the air as the slavers hit the ground.

He quickly let his gaze drift around them, eyes narrowed as he searched for any sign of movement that might reveal another rogue that had slipped past them. Nothing caught his attention, though, other than his companions.

Anders's vision suddenly blurred, everything going out of focus for a moment or two. He shook his head dizzily, blinking until it cleared again. Frowning, he glanced down at the wound in his side. Despite the pain when the knife had first slid in, he could barely feel it now.

Which probably wasn't a good thing, come to think of it.

He slid his hand down, putting it over the wound and pressing down. There was a twinge of pain, but it felt more like a sore muscle than what he knew he should be feeling. Still, there wasn't anything he could do about it until the magebane was out of his system. At least, not unless one of the others had a healing potion or two left on them.

He tried not to think about what he'd do if they didn't have any.

"Is anyone injured?" Anders called out, keeping his hand pressed tightly against his side as he made his way toward the others.

A chorus of 'no's was his response. Or, at least, three 'no's and one rather disgruntled grumble from Fenris that he took as a 'no'. The elf might not like him, but he at least had gotten better at accepting healing magic when he needed it.

Anders could tell the exact moment that Hawke noticed that he was hurt. His eyes narrowed, his gaze flickering between Anders's face and his side. "Anders?" he asked, his voice a combination of irritation and worry. "What happened?"

The others immediately turned their attention toward Anders as well. Isabela and Varric both looked somewhat worried. Fenris didn't, not that Anders had expected anything different.

"I'm fine," was what Anders meant to say. Instead, before he could get the words out, he was hit by another wave of dizziness.

Shaking his head, silently willing his vision to cooperate, Anders did his best to meet Hawke's gaze and shoot him a reassuring grin. Before he could manage it, though, the world went grey. 

He honestly wasn't entirely how long the spell lasted. It could have been an hour or it could have been seconds, but his hearing was the first thing to come back.

"... don't you dare do this to me, Anders. Do you hear me? Don't you fucking dare."

Anders furrowed his brow as awareness returned. He could feel hard soil under him, cold and surprisingly dry considering how much rain they'd been getting lately. There was an ache in his legs that he knew from past experience probably meant that he'd hit the ground with more than a little force.

"Hawke?" he managed to say, the effort making him wish that he was unconscious again

Hawke muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: "Thank the Maker." Which made Anders frown, just a little, considering Hawke was probably the least Andrastian person that he knew. The only time Anders had ever even heard him say "Maker" before had been when he was cursing.

"You know that it counts as someone being injured when you're the one who's hurt, right?" Hawke asked, not even making an attempt to hide the worry in his voice.

Anders started to shake his head, but he quickly rethought that idea when just the barest hint of movement made his head start protesting. "It's not—"

"Don't," Hawke said harshly, cutting him off. "Don't you dare."

Part of Anders wanted to push forward anyway, to try and make him understand that it could have been so much worse. _It could have been Hawke who'd gotten hurt instead of him_ , an annoying voice in the back of his head that he sadly couldn't blame on Justice pointed out rather emphatically. It wasn't worth the fight, though. If Anders had learned anything over the past three years, it was that there wasn't any point in arguing with Hawke when he had made up his mind.

Instead, Anders took a deep breath and moved his hand so that he could feel the wound in his side. The magebane was still in his blood, his lack of mana so complete that it felt like a missing limb, but he was still a healer. He knew how to heal without magic.

He hissed when his hand found the injury, the pain that he hadn't been feeling earlier suddenly coming in force. There was something odd about it, though. Anders risked a glance at it, despite the protest that his head made at the movement.

Then he blinked. And, to be on the safe side, he blinked again.

"Did you try to heal it?" he asked slowly, more than a little confusion making its way into his tone. Hawke was much better at blowing things up than putting them back together. Just the thought of him trying to use healing magic was enough to give Anders pause.

"I had to do _something_ ," Hawke muttered. "What was I supposed to do, sit there and watch you bleed out?"

Anders opened his mouth. Then he closed it. There wasn't really anything he could say in response to that particular argument. Besides, even if Hawke had done a horrifically shoddy job at actually healing him, there was a part of him that was actually quite touched that he'd at least tried.

"Now would be a good time to _heal yourself_ ," Hawke said pointedly. "You know, now that you've rejoined us in the land of the awake."

His sarcasm was biting, even for him. Anders could hear the underlying worry, though, even though Hawke was clearly trying to hide it again.

Anders took a deep breath, reaching as deep inside himself as he could and hoping he'd find at least a tiny scrap of mana left. Of course, he couldn't be that lucky. Whoever the slavers had been, they hadn't spared any coin when they'd bought their magebane. It was potent, draining him completely.

"Why aren't you healing yourself?" Hawke asked, and Anders couldn't help but notice that he was back to not even trying to hide his worry. It had to be bad, for Hawke not to disappear behind the mask of bad jokes and awful one-liners that he normally wore.

Anders grimaced. "Magebane," he said reluctantly. "It was on the knife."

Hawke's eyes widened, his gaze snapping back to focus on the wound. It wasn't as bad as it had been earlier, but Anders couldn't help but notice that it was still bleeding rather significantly now that his attention had been drawn back to it. Healing wasn't Hawke's strength by any means, after all.

Anders hissed in pain as Hawke suddenly pressed down on the wound. "Someone get me a damn healing potion!" Hawke yelled over his shoulder. "Now!"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Anders said. He'd meant for it to be reassuring, but he expected it didn't quite accomplish it considering the fact that his words were slurred enough that even he noticed.

That probably wasn't a good sign.

"I hope not," Hawke muttered, "because it _looks_ like you should be dead right now."

Anders couldn't help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. "You say the nicest things, love."

Hawke glared at him and opened his mouth as if he was about to reply. Before he could, though, Isabela came up behind him, and his mouth snapped closed.

Isabela pressed a healing potion into Hawke's hand, her worry ill-disguised as she glanced at Anders. "One isn't going to be enough," she said quietly, "but it's all we have left."

"There's nothing wrong with my ears," Anders pointed out a bit peevishly.

Isabela at least had the good grace to look a little sheepish. "Sorry, sweet thing."

If he had felt better, Anders would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he just sighed. "It doesn't have to heal me completely," he said, turning his attention toward Hawke. "It just needs to heal it enough to keep me from bleeding out before I have enough mana to heal myself."

Hawke glanced at the healing potion. Then he glanced at Anders's side. "I could try to heal you again."

"Try the potion first?" Anders asked. "I love you, Hawke, but you're a crap healer."

It said a lot that Hawke didn't even pretend to be offended. He just nodded before opening the potion, carefully pouring some of it directly on the wound before bringing the rest of it up to Anders's mouth so that he could swallow it.

Anders closed his eyes, grimacing slightly as he felt the potion go to work. Isabela had been right, not that he'd thought otherwise. He could tell just by the feel of things that it wasn't going to be enough to heal it completely. It should be enough to stop the worst of the bleeding, though, at least long enough for him to regenerate some of his mana.

A rush of magic went through his body, and Anders's eyes shot open. Hawke's eyes were narrowed in concentration, and he was completely butchering the basic healing spell that he was trying to use. Anders honestly doubted that it could have healed a papercut.

Still, Hawke was trying. Maker knew he was trying, despite knowing it was all but useless. And it surprised Anders how much that meant to him.

"I'm going to be fine, love," Anders said quietly, barely breathing out the words. "Don't worry."


End file.
